


tell me your future

by gloxinie



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, also i'm sorry if i butchered jaehwan's character, exactly 0 angst which is new for me, he's not meant to be an asshole i promise, there's not much to tag because nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloxinie/pseuds/gloxinie
Summary: “But I love you!”, he says, loudly, to make his point.Around them, the café goes quiet. The murmur of voices dies away, the clatter of spoons against the ceramic of coffee cups stills. For one second, it’s like the world has stopped moving, like it has settled into an equilibrium for just a moment to suspend this moment in midair.In which Junhee values peace, and Donghun values quiet, and maybe such desires could coexist.





	tell me your future

“But I love you!”, he says, loudly, to make his point.

Around them, the café goes quiet. The murmur of voices dies away, the clatter of spoons against the ceramic of coffee cups stills. For one second, it’s like the world has stopped moving, like it has settled into an equilibrium for just a moment to suspend this moment in midair.

Junhee pinches the bridge of his nose. “Excuse me, please,” he says to the line waiting behind the man who’d slammed his hands on the counter so dramatically, “excuse me. Very sorry. I just need to talk to this guy for a second.” He rounds the counter, grabs the guy by the jacket, shouts: “Jungha, could you mind the orders for a second?”, and drags him through the door behind him into a little storage unit.

“So. What the hell are you doing here?”, he asks once the door has shut, bracing himself against a cooler full of bags of ice cubes. The man in front of him is partly obscured by the low light in the room, and Junhee hopes he won’t be as loud as before. This place isn’t exactly soundproof.

“I’m here because I needed to tell you this,” he says, thankfully quieter now that he has Junhee’s full attention, “I need you to know that I love you. With everything I have.” He presses his hand over his heart as he speaks, fingers twisting in the fabric of his sweater. “I know things didn’t quite work out last time, but please. I need you in my life,” he whines. It’s almost like the music filtering in from the sound system outside is their very own drama soundtrack, piano and a mellow voice singing about lost love and all.

Junhee sighs.

“So you show up at my workplace, which I can’t actually just leave because I have to babysit a staff trainee, just to tell me this. You corner me specifically to… what, confess? Again? After you left to go chase after someone else?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, yes, but listen, I-”

“It didn’t work out with him, did it,” Junhee mutters. He wishes the compassion colouring his tone was an act. “And now you’re back, because you need someone to latch onto, because you’re bad at telling your own self-worth when there’s no boyfriend involved.”

The guy opens his mouth - closes it again. Furrows his brow. Doesn’t properly know what to say.

“You should go home, Ken. We can talk when you’ve calmed down, because I am willing to still be your friend, but I am not giving you a third chance romantically. I’m sorry.” He shrugs as he straightens up, ass a little cold from being sat on the cooler like this. “I’ll make you a drink to take with you,” he tells his ex-boyfriend, and then leaves the room ahead of him. He supposes preparing a fussy drink for a fussy person will at least take his mind off all this for a minute.

When he ducks back out of the storage unit, he is not exactly surprised to find Jungha side-eyeing him.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you know Lee Jaehwan,” his trainee declares steadfastly, nods, turns around, slams a pitcher of milk on the counter, and asks in the same breath: “How do you know Lee Jaehwan?”

“Careful, you’ll sp- hold on.” Junhee clicks his tongue and dives under the counter for a rag so the milk stains won’t seep in and destroy the entire counter and the aesthetic he spent so much money on. One customer grumbles a little, but one flash of his smile and a quick reassurance and all is good.  
“I thought you were used to celebrity customers,” he hisses through his teeth under the more determined hissing of the milk steamer. “Are you going to make a scene again?”

“No, no,” the boy in the black apron denies, waving his hands almost a little frantically, “I just. He’s. He’s the most popular stage actor in like. All of Asia. He was on Broadway, dude, how do you know him?”

Junhee shrugs. “I used to date him,” he says, and pats Jungha on the shoulder to ease his sputtering as he passes.

 

Truthfully, Junhee does not care about celebrity status. Hell, he’s old enough to barely even care what people do, unless it actively affects him. The only things he’s a fan of are his dogs and the entire frozen yogurt freezer at his local grocery store, as edgy as that sounds - he just doesn’t have the time for TV. Or music beyond what he puts on the café system for ambience. Yuchan suspects it’s because of some dramatic event that made Junhee swear off his own celebrity ambitions for good, and Junhee… well, he indulges him. The kid’s life is hectic enough, if he wants a mystery to solve he can have one.

“This is why everyone loves your shop so much, you know,” Kwangsuk tells him one day, when he wears insoles and can actually look beyond the edge of the counter for once. (He hits him when Junhee says it, but it’s true, so.) “You just legitimately don’t care, which is… great, really. We could all use a place like this, it’s honestly like a piece of home.”

Junhee nods and neglects to mention that he doesn’t even like coffee in the first place. At least it’s a comfort to some people.

 

He is just about done organising tomorrow’s playlist for the sound system during a midday lull when the bell above the entrance rings.

“Welcome,” he calls out from under the counter, “I’ll be right with you, one moment!”

There’s no answer. When he finally rights himself up to greet whoever it is properly, he is greeted with a pair of sunglasses, a bucket hat pulled so far over the customer’s face it practically touches his nose, and a face mask. Junhee has to clench really hard to not laugh - it’s possibly the most conspicuous celebrity disguise he’s seen since he started running this place. He smiles, though.

“Can I get you something?”

The man coughs (inconspicuously, of course) and, voice probably an octave lower than it is in real life, asks: “Can I, uh… an iced Americano. And a blueberry muffin.” He pauses. “Please.”

Junhee’s eyes fall to where the stranger is clutching the edges of his sweater paws, fingers twitching and tapping, and decides to give him a pass on teasing. Maybe he’s bad with social interaction? He can’t blame him for that, after all, so all he does is nod and prepare the order.  
Two minutes later, he watches him take the cup and the plate and tuck himself away in the darkest, quietest corner of the café, and something in his chest twinges just a little bit. Didn’t Kwangsuk tell him this was supposed to be a home? Because people don’t behave this way when they’re at ease at all.

Junhee watches the sun outside move across the span of the sky, until it is late and streaks of red and orange and purple are shining through the glass panels of the wall facing the streets. There’s still quite a few people out, but none spare a glance for his shop, instead rushing to appointments and bars and loved ones. In a few minutes, Junhee will be able to take off his apron, lock the doors and drag himself those few flights of stairs up to his apartment with his books and his bed.  
Well, he will be able to once everyone has left the shop.  
He’s in the middle of removing the pastries that didn’t sell from the glass case and wiping down the plates when he looks up and into the corner, and, huh- the stranger is still there. It’s been hours, yet it seems like he’s barely moved aside from taking off his mask and sunglasses, now folded neatly next to his hand as he’s hunched over something, arm moving back and forth. It doesn’t really seem like he’s keeping track of the time at all, or he might have left by now.

Setting the plate he’s holding down with a soft clinking sound, suddenly extremely aware that the last song of the night had just finished a minute ago, he makes his way towards the straggling customer. He wonders how he should approach the situation - just kick him out or ask him if needs anything or-

Or the guy can look up, make eye contact with him, and actually throw himself against the wall as he covers his face with one hand and scrambles for his sunglasses with the other. That works too.

“Sorry, are you alright?”, Junhee asks once the other has somehow managed to obscure his eyes again. They’re nice eyes, he admits, the kind of warm brown that really isn’t as appreciated as it should be, but it’s not like he’s going to kidnap the guy and steal his eyeballs now that he’s seen them. He really is a little nervous about being… anywhere, probably.  
“I hate to kick anyone out, but I’m going to be closing soon, so…”, he begins, and can see the guy’s body deflate in real-time. It’s almost comical, the way his shoulders slump forward like the strings holding them had been cut by a careless puppetmaster, but it’s also a little pitiful. Junhee can pretty much clearly see his mournful expression even through the mask and tinted plastic.  
“Or, um, on second thought,” he amends, “I’d like to have a cup before I close, if that’s alright with you?”  
The stranger stills for a minute or so, but ultimately gives a small nod of his head. Junhee smiles, again. He hopes that maybe it will ease the tension a little.  
“I’ll be right back,” he says, and sets off.

Five minutes later, the stranger is presumably going crosseyed looking at the second cup and plate Junhee brought, a slice of yellow-and-pink cake roll sitting primly on white ceramic. “It’s on the house,” Junhee explains, “because I had some leftovers. I’m usually feeding them to a friend or the apprentice, but neither is here today and I’d like at least some of this to not spoil, you know?”  
“I’m on a diet,” the customer tries uncertainly, voice wavering somewhere around the concept of restricting your enjoyment of food for aesthetics.  
“And cake is good for the soul so the body can endure the diet well,” Junhee tells him sagely, nodding along to his own words like any of it even made any sense. “What’s your name?”

The hand that had sneakily been closing the gap between itself and the tiny dessert fork freezes.  
“My, uh..”  
“Your name. Or nickname. Or awfully obvious fake name. But on second thought, a fake name would just make you sound like a stalker, so, y’know.” Junhee shrugs. The stranger’s hand twitches a little towards the black on black on plastic on cloth obscuring his face. What are the chances he just now realised what he comes across as? A little too high for Junhee’s tastes.  
“My name. Sure. Um… Donghun. Lee Donghun,” Stranger Donghun says, with apprehension colouring his tone. He still seems unsure when he takes off the glasses and the mask, leaving him with nothing but his insecurity and a surprisingly attractive face.  
“Cool, I’m Junhee. Park Junhee.” His best James Bond impression nets him nothing but a blank look today. Junhee pouts.  
“It’s from-“  
“Yeah, I know,” Donghun interrupts, takes a breath, then: “You’re not gonna flip out? Ask for pictures?”  
“Why?”, Junhee asks, “Should I? I know you’re pretty, but that’s maybe a bit much. Have some modesty.”  
“Asshole,” comes a soft, mumbled voice, but Donghun is smiling, eyes all scrunched up, so Junhee neglects to mention that he’s seen this exact tense look as the face of a newspaper just this morning, under a bold black headline reading ‘Rising Star Assaulted By Fan’.  
“You want any more?”, he asks instead when the plate is scraped clean, and takes the little nod as a personal accomplishment.

The next day, it takes the local florist only seconds to bring up Junhee’s personal life.  
“So,” Seungkwan chirps, and hoists himself up on the counter that had just been wiped down a minute ago. “What’s this I hear about dramatic love confessions?”  
“Nothing, you’ve heard nothing.” Junhee measures out the ungodly amount of caramel Seungkwan wants in his drink, and prays that that will be the end of it.  
“But I want to know,” Seungkwan whines. Of course. “I wasn’t even there, and firsthand accounts are always better. There’s never any feeling with onlookers, it’s gross, now spill.” The demand goes only half-heard among the whirring of the steamer.  
“Well, there’s no feeling here either,” he states resolutely, attention split between the coffee and the slice of apple tart they really only carry to appease Seungkwan’s sugar craving. “I’m not sure what Jungha told Yuchan to gossip about, but all of this is in the past. You know Jaehwan, he feels a lot. He’ll be fine soon and we’ll be back to being friends, so, whatever.”  
“Oh. Okay.”  
“You sound confused?”  
“I thought it was someone else.” Seungkwan shrugs and snatches the cup of milk-and-syrup for himself. “You know, a new admirer or something, ready to sweep you and your old man life off your feet.”  
“Do I look like I’d have one of those? Ever?”  
“Maybe. You certainly could, if you wanted to.” And funnily enough, he doesn’t even sound like he’s joking this time. Junhee thinks back to the smile he’d coaxed out of Donghun last night, all wide and scrunchy and happy, and says nothing.

The smile reappears as early as five minutes after Seungkwan takes his leave, sated on the kind of innocently sweet gossip only Jungha can provide. He’d kick himself if he knew what he was missing right now, Junhee muses, then nods at Donghun, who keeps fidgeting with his hat, still nervous, it seems.  
“Hi,” Junhee says, “what can I get you?”  
Donghun frowns.  
“I mean, I was here yesterday, don’t you…?”  
“One visit does not a regular make,” Junhee points out, but grabs a medium cup anyway, “plus - There’s always a chance you’ll want to try something else, and then I’ll just be the asshole who railroaded you into your usual with no regard to your feelings, which will lead to everyone here leaving me and me going bankrupt.” He shrugs. “Iced Americano?” He barely even waits for an answer before busying himself with the machine behind the counter, effectively missing the bewildered way Donghun is still trying to say something.

“Do you think anyone’s noticed I’m here?” Donghun asks him later that day. Junhee has already been around twice to refill his coffee, and once to force him into eating one of those blueberry puff pastries he’d started stocking around a week ago.  
Junhee looks at him and shrugs.  
“I feel like anyone would notice a guy cosplaying Vantablack with his entire body,” he points out and slides into the chair opposite Donghun’s, back towards the entrance and the counter. It’s fine. It’s empty anyway - the only other person who’s here is Jihoon, elbows deep in lyrics as well as his fifth coffee of the day. Probably hasn’t slept much, and while Junhee appreciates the money, he’d rather not have someone die in his establishment, so he feels justified in being a touch worried.  
Donghun only shrugs and Junhee likes to think he conceded that point. They sit in silence for a while. Donghun’s tiny little dessert fork scrapes across the ceramic of the place, scooping up the very last of the pastry that had been on it. Junhee takes it as a compliment.  
“You don’t have any tokens,” Donghun mutters after a while, absently rubbing the handle of the fork between his his thumb and forefinger, gaze trained on the wall behind the counter. Junhee twists around to see what he’s talking about, but-  
“Tokens?”  
“Yeah, like…” Donghun shrugs. “Pictures? Autographs? Proof that you have famous regulars, I guess. I know a lot of us visit this area of town, but most other shops have at least something on display. You’d think this here is just a regular coffee shop.”  
Junhee fiddles with his hair.  
“Isn’t it, though?”  
“Hm?”  
“Isn’t it just a regular coffee shop?” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s a place like any other, and customers here are people like anyone else. It’d be weird of me to act like my customers were anything beyond that.” Donghun’s gaze on him had become a little questioning, a little heavy in ways Junhee isn’t really comfortable with, so he slaps the table with both palms and heaves himself up out of the cushioned chair. “Can I get you anything else? One of our Danishes, maybe?”  
Donghun doesn’t bring it up again.

At night, the world seems a little more at peace. When the day is winding down, when the sun gives way to the ambivalent dusk of the sprawling cityscape, when all Junhee is left with is the final cleanup and the last song of the playlist (always the same song, always the same routine) and sometimes Donghun, tapping about on his phone as Junhee sweeps the floors and flip the sign on the door. Some days he won’t come in at all, others he’ll sit in his usual corner and stay until Junhee legitimately cannot keep his eyes open anymore. Junhee’s decided not to question it. Even if he’s only known the guy for not quite a month, all of this is part of his nights now, and for the better, too.  
Except this night, when his fingers skim the edge of the ‘open’ sign hanging from the front door, it presses against his hand.  
“Hey,” says Ken through the crack of the door. “Can I come in?” There’s a flash of purple, a bundle of hyacinths peeking inside beyond the late spring air, and Junhee’s grip on the door deflates. So does his heart.  
God, let this be an amicable conversation.  
“Come in,” he says, and motions for Ken to enter.

Junhee busies himself with finding a vase, and Ken busies himself with watching. From what Junhee can see from his periphery, Donghun has set down his phone, but he has no idea what he’s up to right now. He hopes they won’t disturb him too much.  
“So,” Junhee begins, once he has arranged the flowers properly in the vase. They’re pretty, he must admit - tasteful, but not ostentatious. Simple. Something Seungkwan would, and probably already has, put together, albeit grumbling about not getting to pull out all the bells and whistles.  
“So,” echoes Ken.  
They’re at an impasse for a while. Ken hoists himself on one of the bar stools at the end of the counter, and Junhee follows, like he always has.  
“I wanted to talk,” Ken says. “More like, to apologize. For making a scene. I know it’s not really… fair to you, or to me, I’m just.” He sighs. “I don’t know what I am.”  
Junhee hums. “If that isn’t a Millennial mood,” he offers, and relaxes when it makes Ken laugh. This is what he’s here for, after all. Making people feel better.  
“But really. I just wanted to make sure you don’t think I’m like… a crazy knife murderer. And talk, maybe. But it’s late, so it’s fine if you..?”  
Junhee takes a look around, across the dark landscape of his shop, at the empty spot where Donghun had sat before and the bell jingling softly above the exit, and sighs.  
“You know me, I’m not really one for quiet nights in anyway.” The blatant lie makes even him smile, this time.

Junhee honestly isn’t the type to go to bars.  
Sure, he knows how to hold his alcohol, his youth a product of peer pressure and social drinking, but at this point he’d rather just drink at home or go to a restaurant and at least eat some meat with the burn of it going down his throat. So he picks at the label of his beer bottle and watches Ken fidget with his shot glass in a silence that needs a few more swigs to be called entirely comfortable.  
“I really don’t know what I’m doing,” Ken says to his glass, tilting it like it will magically discharge an extra serving of soju. “I’m going out with this new guy, except I’m really not because I keep having to work and I don’t even really feel like texting him back, and… sometimes it just feels like I should be trying to get you back.” He grins sheepishly at Junhee’s expression, suddenly sharper and likely more alarmed than he’d been all night. “I know, I know, that’s an awful idea. We broke up for a reason.”  
“For many reasons,” Junhee contributes. His beer is a little warm at this point, but asking for a new one feels rude.  
“It’s just that…” Ken sighs. Rubs one of his wrists. “It was easy, you know? Being with you. Or being with someone, I suppose.”  
“No, no, I’ll accept the part where it was my presence that made everything better,” Junhee grins. The bottle gives a halfhearted click when he taps a nail against the neck of it. “I understand, though. It’s comfortable having someone around who doesn’t expect much of you. Not much like all your first dates, I’m assuming?”  
Junhee knows Ken, so he knows to draw back slightly just as Ken falls forward onto the table with a despairing look. “Exactly,” he hisses, “I forgot how much damn posturing is involved in this shit. I’m going back to act on Broadway in like two months, you’d think I can just present myself as I am and land someone? But no, if you have a Rolex, they always want the matching earrings.” He groans from his position on the wooden surface. “Can I just skip forward to when I have a husband and a kid and am retired already? And preferably have some financial stability?”  
“It’s dangerous to only be the tenth richest man in the country,” Junhee agrees, and takes another sip.

He knows he’s easy to be with. He’s certainly heard it often enough from friends, from family, from significant others. Usually, it’s accompanied with complaints of boredom, or stagnation, where Junhee really doesn’t feel those issues existing. He feels old sometimes, yeah, when he’s at home with nothing but a book and the nose of a Husky nuzzled into his thigh, but he’d never though it to be an actual problem before, except for the times Ken seemed to be ten steps ahead of him, going to year-end awards shows and the Grammys and the Oscars and leaving Junhee behind with coffee he doesn’t enjoy and dogs he barely has the time for. Not that he’s… complaining, really, but there really is a world of differences between him and those he interacts with on a daily basis. Watching Ken flirt with the bartender, black button-up straining against dark skin, just solidifies that feeling.

Donghun does not come back.

A few days later, Junhee gains a new customer.

The guy keeps mostly to himself, orders his coffee black with room for cream and sits in the booth at the very back, the one that’s barely properly lit, where Donghun used to sit all the time. Junhee thinks that he may have been a little unfair to Donghun before: this guy is so much more adamant about wearing black… everything, really. It’s almost a little impressive, if it didn’t make Junhee think of his rebellious emo phase back in middle school.

“I’m Sehyoon,” the guy tells him one day, something like challenge in his eyes as he stands in front of the counter, height all drawn up and shoulders squared like he’s about to go into battle.  
“And I’m Junhee,” Junhee says, smiles, offers Sehyoon the usual, and watches his defiance melt away.  
“I…” Sehyoon looks down, looks away, stammers a little, “Uh. Do you know Donghun?”  
“Sorry?”  
“Lee Donghun. He comes here a lot. Uh, well, came, at least.”  
Junhee raises an eyebrow as he counts out the change. “Sorry, kid, I’m not exactly in the business of telling on my customers. Not the kind of thing this place is meant for.”  
Sehyoon stills. Blinks. Cocks his head to his side. “Huh,” he breathes.  
“What?”  
“You’re actually not an asshole. Nice to meet you.” He sticks his hand out. “Also, I’m probably older than you.”  
This feels like a long day already, Junhee thinks to himself, and moves around the counter to take a seat.

He’s not exactly wrong there.  
“Are you and Donghun close?” Sehyoon’s fingers smooth over the picture he’d pulled from his wallet to prove he’s not actually a stalker, Donghun and Sehyoon and another guy Junhee doesn’t know showing peace signs to to the camera out of one of those vintage collector’s cars. Junhee dearly hopes Donghun isn’t a car fanatic: all he owns is a bike, one that’s probably older than him, at that.  
“Not… really,” Junhee says carefully. He’s not sure he’s entirely comfortable with where this is heading. “He came around a few times and we talked some, but nothing really personal.”  
“Hm.” Sehyoon nods. “Would you like to be?”  
“Again, I’m sorry, what?”  
“Would you like to be close to him? Or, well. Closer than you are right now. You know.” He waves a hand, all elegant in a way Junhee isn’t familiar with. “Stuff like that.”  
Junhee frowns.  
“Maybe? I mean. I was really just gonna see where this goes by itself, but he’s not really coming around anymore and I’m not exactly gonna chase him down to demand explanations. I’d rather live thinking my coffee isn’t abysmal.” His grins come a little easier, now that he doesn’t feel like he’s secretly a breach in the matrix about to be exterminated by Agent Sm… well, Agent Sehyoon. Actually, on second thought, that doesn’t sound so catchy. Junhee doubts Sehyoon would have had much success in that particular career path.  
Sehyoon snorts.  
“If that was the issue, he’d have bolted the first day. This is really about… well. Honestly? I have no idea.” There’s a sort of exasperation colouring his tone, the acidic tinge of not being sure how to help your friend. Sehyoon shrugs. “I mean, I could guess, but.”  
“Then guess,” Junhee suggests.  
For a few moments, Sehyoon is silent.  
“I think he felt out of place,” he says finally. “I’m not sure what happened, but… it sounded like he didn’t feel comfortable anymore. Probably thinks he’s a burden, because he’s dumb like that sometimes.” Sehyoon wets his lips. “Unless that’s not him being dumb?”  
Junhee’s hands still.  
“It is dumb,” he says, quickly, just in case, then amends, “at least I think so, yes. Maybe he ended up feeling uncomfortable in some way, which I feel sorry for, but whatever it is, it wasn’t purposeful. It never would have been.”  
Sehyoon nods.  
“I’ll let him know you think that way,” he promises, and it makes Junhee feel a whole lot lighter.

Two days later, Donghun is back.  
Seungkwan wiggles his eyebrows at him until Junhee gives into the urge to just grab his face and push it away from him, but it doesn’t change the little bubble of happiness rising up under his heart. Donghun is back. This place isn’t a lost cause yet.  
Why he regards the guy’s opinion so highly he’ll never know.  
“Americano?”  
Donghun’s gaze stays glued to the menu above Junhee’s head, illustrated in chalk (which he always has to pay Ten extra for, not that he minds) as he says:  
“I’ll try something different today. Surprise me.”  
And he looks down and smiles.

Junhee has to admit, Donghun’s smile really is something special, and he’s surrounded by all shades of commercial-ready celebrity faces every day. Maybe it’s the eyes that make his special. That might be it.  
“So,” Donghun asks once Junhee lets Jungha take over and grabs a sandwich as his lunch break, “how have you been?”  
Junhee shrugs. Picks at his Napoleon with one of the tiny dessert forks. “Good, I guess.”  
“Yeah, me too,” says Donghun.  
They sit in silence for a while.  
“So I was-”  
“Listen, I-”  
They both fall into silence again. Somehow, it’s even more awkward.  
Donghun waves one of his hands weakly. “Go ahead,” he says.  
“I was just gonna say I need to get back to the register,” Junhee mutters, grasps the tiny plate in both hands and speeds off. Work. Yeah. He’s at work right now, after all.  
This was definitely not what he’d wanted to say to Donghun, though.

Junhee has never really thought very highly of the concept of crushes. Sure, dating is fine and all, but the idea of pining, being set on one specific person without knowing if it’ll actually ever lead to something is… well, uncomfortable, in a way, he supposes. He prefers his romantic encounters upfront about what they want and what is in the realm of possibility.  
Then again, he’s never met Lee Donghun before.  
He’s aware that whatever it is he feels, it’s very much in its beginning stages. Baby shoes, if you will. Is that a saying? In any case, his… crush, or whatever, isn’t anything big yet. Or anything noteworthy, even, if Seungkwan hadn’t drilled the importance of true love into him ever since ten minutes after they’d first met. It’s just a slight flutter of the heart, a nervous jump of the stomach or two. Nothing he should be hung up on, nothing he has ever been particularly hung up on.

That smile, though. That’s a smile that makes you reevaluate things.

Donghun stays until closing again, way after the last of his customers bring their dishes to the counter, and Junhee is inclined to take this as a good sign. So he cleans a little faster than usual, shoves a crate of assorted baked goods in Yuchan’s arms to take home and distribute to his hundred friends, and hesitates for only a second or three before making his way over to where Donghun is sitting, earbuds in and focused on his phone.  
“Hey,” he says, and Donghun looks up. Immediately plucks one of the earbuds out. Probably not that focused on the music, then.  
“Can I sit?”  
“You literally own this place,” Donghun tells him. Junhee sits.  
“So,” says Donghun.  
“So,” says Junhee.  
“I think I owe you an apology.”  
Junhee leans forward. He’s pretty sure confusion can be read off all the creases in his face. “No, you really don’t. You don’t owe me any visits, you know, you’re not a regular yet?”  
“If I was, would I owe you visits?” Donghun leans a little forward as well. He’s not obscuring his face at all today, so strands of dyed brown hair fall into his eyes as he blinks. They’re really pretty eyes, Junhee thinks to himself absently.  
“Probably,” he says. “I’d have to hunt you down. Uh. Café laws, all that.” He knows it didn’t come across as funny as he’d imagined it in his head, the stumble and his tongue catching on his teeth and his general awkwardness around his… yes, his crush, all of it just makes him feel clumsy and way too constrained in this booth. But Donghun laughs, a tiny chuckle that could be either genuine amusement or pity at how hard Junhee tries, and it makes him feel a little better. “Sure,” Donghun says.  
The pastry cooler hums a little.  
“But really, I’m sorry for not coming by more often. I guess I just…” Donghun shrugs. “Sehyoon probably told you his theories, and he’s usually right, so there’s that.” He shrugs again. Picks at his nails. Now that they’re talking again, discomfort is settling in their bones.

This is really awkward.

“You know,” Donghun starts after a beat of silence, “I like it here.”  
“Thanks,” says Junhee.  
“And I like you.”  
“Thanks, again.”  
Donghun looks at the table and smiles.   
“So, that means I get to take you out for dinner?”  
Junhee looks back up. Donghun doesn’t really look nervous, or particularly amped up, just quiet and earnest, glowing under the dimmed down café lights. He thinks of how they met, of talking in the evening hours, of Ken and his flair for the dramatic. He nods. “I’d like that,” he says.  
Donghun’s smile grows. His wrist bumps against his coffee cup as he reaches across the table to tangle Junhee’s fingers with his.  
“Just so you know,” Junhee says, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”  
“Me neither,” says Donghun. Shrugs. Looks out towards the street. “But we’ll figure it out. Individually, and maybe together, eventually.”  
Junhee nods quietly.  
“Sure. Let’s do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi i love u guys  
> also i have a tumblr and a cc both @gloxinie if you wanna like. discuss fic things w me. or send me prompts that's cool too


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